I heard the glass on the window shatter. There was the crunching of metal as the crew began prying the door off.

“I got ya,” I told the girl. “The door’s all smashed in, so we need to take it off. A few minutes and we will have you out of here.”

I heard the woman paramedic I had spoken to earlier: “Your patient is number two. We’ve got number one and we’re going lights and sirens to St. V’s.”

The blanket came off. The backdoor was gone. A board slid in.

“Let’s take her head first!” someone suggested.

I grabbed her legs and we slowly pivoted her around and got her on the board. She grabbed my arm.

“We gotcha,” I said, “We gotcha!”

Then someone grabbed the board; I was still holding her head. A minute later we were at the Med unit, brightly lit up inside with its big rear doors open. I let go of her as two EMTs slid her into the back. The door closed and they were gone.

I squatted down and watched the rig take off, lights flashing and siren echoing off the hills.